


Devotion

by mezzosaka



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Build, Suicidal Thoughts, sogo runs a stan acct au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2019-06-08 09:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15240063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mezzosaka/pseuds/mezzosaka
Summary: While Sogo had few friends in real life, he had thousands upon thousands of people admiring him from across cities, countries, oceans, continents. People who didn’t even speak the same language wanted to see what he had to say every day, had notifications for his posts turned on so that they could see it all first.He wanted to share his love for Trigger with everyone. If Trigger pierced through his gray, they could pierce through others', too.-In a stroke of pure luck, Sogo ends up meeting the group of his dreams. They had changed his life twice before: once upon discovery, and twice during the concert that ended twenty minutes previous.He stood in the dressing room before them. He didn't know it then, but Trigger was about to flip his life around once more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to my fic! thanks for clicking on it; i hope you'll stick around
> 
> i wish i could be as cool as sogo....

Sogo woke with a bitter taste in his mouth.

He typically did, he realized, rolling over in bed with a sigh. No, he almost always did. It was one of the perks of being perpetually unhappy with your life. You wake up, and somehow the day goes by, and you fall asleep, and the bitterness never leaves you. It didn’t matter whether or not he was happy in the moment—he had actually woken up feeling fairly content—because in the grand scheme of things, he was still unhappy.

His room was bare. Unusually bare. So bare that it was a little bit suspicious. He did have decorations he had picked out, however none of them would ever be able to meet the eyes of his father. Or even the maid, as loyal and quiet as she was. His father would never let him hear the end of it. He’d be berated for all of it being a waste of time. He’d be told that he should be focusing on school and preparing to secure assets of his own rather than spending hours upon hours combing through auction sites to find everything he enjoyed.

It was all merchandise. Merchandise he’d painstakingly ordered online, shipped to a secure location where he’d pick them up and sneak them in. Well, Yamato was happy to help him. He knew how bad it was for Sogo. Even if he didn’t quite understand Sogo’s obsession, he wanted to at least help bring a little bit of happiness to the boy’s life.

All of it lived in his drawers, in boxes in his closet labeled “2009”, in suitcases that he hadn’t used for a few years now. He found it thrilling to have a moment to himself, to reach under his bed and pull out a sleek black suitcase from vacations past just to admire the posters he had gotten a few months ago. Each of them still safe within plastic sleeves, he’d flip through them just to catch a glimpse of each member. He’d organized them so it would be a nice cycle when he looked, so no one member got any more particular attention over the other.

And while those stolen moments were exhilarating, something that was even more so was his phone.

It was easier to hide things on his phone. Not only did it require a fingerprint to be opened, but there was also a password prompt after two minutes of having it open. The screen locked automatically after a minute of inactivity, and his lock screen was a simple picture of the ocean. No one had access to his phone—absolutely no one except himself, and _that_ was dangerous.

He finally rolled over in bed, stretching to grab his phone from the side table. He pressed the home button and squinted when the display burned his eyes. He was up before the sun—always was—and it was a small price to pay for thirty minutes or so of alone time.

Sogo wasn’t surprised to find most of his apps littered with red badges, notification numbers all well into the double digits. It was anxiety-inducing, but at the same time it all filled him with a sense of pride. Those numbers just proved what he already expected to be true: while he had few friends in real life, he had thousands upon thousands of people admiring him from across cities, countries, oceans, continents. People who didn’t even speak the same language wanted to see what Sogo had to say every day, had notifications for his posts turned on so that they could see it all first.

He began by opening Twitter. That was his main mode of communication with all of these people. He couldn’t be bothered to comb through each notification, and he idly sifted through his mentions first. Not much was important, or even especially relevant to him. Around ninety-nine percent of his followers didn’t even know his real name. Early on, he had taken on his uncle’s name—Satoshi, a name Sogo hardly felt worthy to bear—for use on the Internet, too afraid of what his father would say if any of his accounts were ever unearthed. He mainly saw comments on the picture he had posted the night previous before falling asleep. He tried not to pick favorites, but it was of his favorite idol from his favorite group, a hastily taken screenshot from a recently released music video.

Sogo had discovered Trigger almost immediately after they debuted. He very clearly remembered the day. He was still in high school then, followers still on the low end of triple digits. His days had always passed in a blur then, too. It had only been a few years after his uncle passed, and Sogo was still just beginning to learn to deal with the bitterness. Every day was spent partially paying attention to his lessons, but mostly staring out the window. Thinking of the migraine brewing behind his eyes, the sandpaper that felt permanently situated in his mouth, the dryness of his hands. Stretching to see beyond the courtyard, to the little strip of street his family’s driver waited for him on every day. Dreading the school day’s end, where he’d have to sit in that wretched car and hope they’d get stuck in traffic at just the right part of the city, so he could crack the window open and listen.

He’d trudged his way to the car after school that day. He hadn’t seen Yamato, and it made the walk much more straightforward. He suppressed his melancholy every single time the driver greeted him with a smile, took his bag, opened the door for him. It wasn’t the driver’s fault, anyway. Sogo tried to be pleasant during the rides home, but that day, he felt like nothing he could say would have been pleasant. The driver seemed to understand, though, not making much conversation.

Gloriously, they had found themselves stopped in Sogo’s favorite part of the city. He rolled the window down on pure instinct. His mind had been farther away, not able to control his body no matter how hard he tried to ground himself.

_Let’s go, wake me up!_

The words pierced through the mist, and Sogo had felt a clarity he thought was lost to him. He found himself straightening up in his seat, craning his head up towards the crack in the window to get a better view. The screen was partially obscured by another building, the audio muddled by the sounds of the streets, but it was all Sogo needed. He could see, just barely, each member’s face flashing on the screen. He burned the words into his mind as best as he could, and the song was over much too fast.

He slumped in his seat, then. All he could do after that was hope they’d stop long enough for the video cycle to repeat. He supposed repeating it in his mind was enough.

He’d spent all night that night doing as much research as he could on Trigger. They were still relatively new, so there wasn’t much, but Sogo absorbed it all like a sponge, switching all of his social media accounts to focus solely on them. He had fallen asleep listening to the same song, taking in the sensations of what felt like being alive for the first time.

Sogo blinked, his eyes finally adjusted to the light of his phone screen. Ryuunosuke Tsunashi’s abs faced him. It made his heart swell to see all of the retweets the photo had gotten. He didn’t care so much that he was popular. Instead, he liked that people across the globe also liked Trigger enough to retweet a bad screenshot, especially when paired with Sogo’s obnoxious, borderline obscene comment about what he wanted to do to those abs.

He swiped away from the tweet and checked the time. The sight made him groan and nearly fling his phone across the room. He’d spent so much time reminiscing while idly staring at Tsunashi-san that all of his time had slipped away from him. He had to get up now, pretend to be a normal member of society. Pretend like he actually cared about learning business tactics in a room of forty other people who were pretending just like him.

Sitting up, Sogo decided he had enough time to at least look at his home screen. It was a picture of the three of them with their arms around each other, posing at the end of a variety show. Sogo wasn’t great at making wallpapers yet, and the proportions were off, the members slightly stretched a little taller than usual. Kujo-san stood in the middle, as usual, with Yaotome-san on his left and Tsunashi-san on his right. They were smiling beautifully, sincerely, and it was possibly Sogo’s favorite picture of them in existence.

As lame as it was, he pressed a kiss to his fingers and then touched it to his phone screen. He hoped that somehow his love would reach them as they had reached him.

* * *

 

Sogo returned to his room two hours after returning home. He hated days like this, where he got back from the university and had to take a few grueling hours of his father talking at him. His father always talked to him so _condescendingly_ , like Sogo was some sort of child that couldn’t understand words bigger than five letters. His father always added in painful little quips, too, about Sogo’s head being filled with “meaningless philosophies” from his uncle.

Those were moments Sogo tried to shut down, tried to tune his mind in elsewhere. It never worked. No matter how hard he tried to picture one of Kujo-san’s bodyrolls in those conversations, he very clearly heard his father speaking so distastefully about his uncle. He just had to stand there with his hands clasped in front of him until he was dismissed.

God, it was forever until he was dismissed this time.

He went up the stairs with practiced urgency; quick, yet not rushed. He scanned each hallway before walking down them, and he was glad not to run into anyone else that afternoon. There were a few hours left until dinner would be ready. That was enough time for him to decompress. It was enough time for him gather himself back up into the perfect son he was supposed to be just in time for dinner.

He shut his door rather roughly, hoping to scare off anyone that happened to be lingering nearby. He set his bag down on his bed, carefully extracting his latest purchase before heading to the bathroom. It was a limited edition Trigger photobook that sold for a pretty penny typically but for even higher on auction. Sogo was glad to be a young man of gray morals; while he probably should feel guilty for using the money his parents gave him, he wasted no time using a good portion for that photobook. It was school-themed and beautiful, and Sogo tucked it carefully under a box in his linen closet, where some of his other photobooks were.

He stared at himself in the mirror before he left. A long, hard stare. He really was lying to himself whenever he said doing a face reveal was out of the question due to privacy. He was plain-looking, and he knew it. Most of his followers were teenage girls, anyway. Teenage girls who thought the man behind one of the biggest Trigger accounts out there was some sort of dreamboat. He really wasn’t. His skin wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great, either. He felt he was a little too pale for the hair color he had, and one of his eyelids was slightly smaller than the other. His lips made a weird shape, and his nose didn’t look right on his face.

He shook his head before he turned on the faucet, icy cold. He had to whenever he got urges like that. At least he could streamline his self-hatred now… He wasn’t cutting himself anymore. Instead, he devoted most of his energy into watching hours of footage so he could compile a video of every time Tsunashi-san smiled during interviews or carefully curating playlists that reminded him of each of the members.

Sogo finally flopped onto his bed, sinking down into the pillows. He opened his phone to the usual copious amounts of notifications, but also, surprisingly, a few text messages. One of them was from Yamato, asking if he got home safe. And then another, also from Yamato about an hour later, asking if everything at home was okay. He answered back promptly: yes for the first, and “as good as it can be” for the second. He didn’t feel the need to expand on the second point; Yamato knew how bad it got.

The other message was from one of his dearest friends.

 

 

> **RIKU:** Hey!!!! I know you’re busy but please text me as soon as you can!!!

 

Sogo smiled, responding with a simple question mark. He always enjoyed talking to Riku. He met him on Twitter, actually. Sogo had followed him when he had just found out about Trigger, on a whim when he was searching for any and all content of the band to devour. Both of them were too shy to talk to each other at first, and they both just liked each other’s tweets until finally someone started a conversation, and they didn’t really stop talking ever since. Riku was one of the few people from Twitter who knew anything about him past his fake name. Riku had seen his face before and even knew his full name. They called fairly often to gossip about what might be going on next for Trigger, and sometimes just to chat about their days when they both had a spare minute.

Sogo had just switched back to Twitter when more of Riku’s texts came in.

 

 

> **RIKU** : Soooooo you know how I have a uhhhh connection w Trigger
> 
> **RIKU:** And I ALWAYS told you itd come in handy but you doubted me
> 
> **RIKU:** Doubt me no more Sogo
> 
> **RIKU:** For not only have I secured 2 tickets to the 5/10 Trigger live
> 
> **RIKU:** But
> 
> **RIKU:** I have also secured YOU, the BIGGEST Trigger fan I know, a backstage VIP pass!!!!! :D

 

Sogo felt like his heart had stopped. He had no reason to distrust Riku. They’d met twice before in the past, and Sogo just got that sort of energy from him. Riku wasn’t the type to lie about stuff like that, and his Trigger connection (whatever it might have been… Sogo guessed one of Riku’s family members was YaoPro staff) had held up when Sogo asked for proof (the wildly specific costume description was just too niche to have been guessed).

So it was real. It was _real_. Sogo had a chance to meet Trigger, the group that flipped his whole life around.

 

 

> **SOGO:** What? No way!!
> 
> **SOGO:** I love you.
> 
> **SOGO:** Seriously. I feel like this news has given me a new reason to live.
> 
> **SOGO:** In a mere two months, I’ll be able to breathe the same air as Tsunashi-san… I think I have to spend the whole time preparing myself so I won’t pass out.
> 
> **SOGO:** Do you think we can find out what cologne he uses? Maybe if I practice smelling it I won’t get overwhelmed when I actually meet him.
> 
> **RIKU:** LOL Thats a little too much
> 
> **RIKU:** We wont be able to find out his cologne before the live but maybe if you remember the scent you can find it after!!! We can go 2 the mall and smell all of them and then you can smell him forever
> 
> **SOGO:** Imagine that… I think I’ll die.
> 
> **RIKU:** Do NOT
> 
> **SOGO:** I’m trying.
> 
>  

Sogo set his phone down after that. He didn’t want to get into that conversation again with Riku. It was always messy and always left him crying because of how purely _earnest_ Riku was. Instead, Sogo closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair.

He really would get to see Trigger soon. He’d get to feel the heat of a crowd that loved Trigger as much as he did. He’d get to see the three of them with his own two eyes. He’d get to see them _live_ , hear any mess ups _live_ , listen to them talk to the crowd _live_. It wouldn’t be through a screen this time.

He felt like he was going to cry just thinking about it, but he sat up suddenly. If he was going to do this, and _really_ do it, then he had some work to do. He still had an hour or so before dinner.

It was time to look for another lightstick.

* * *

 

Sogo didn’t realize how fast time flew until he was in the venue.

His hands shook as they stepped inside, one of them clasped in Riku’s so they wouldn’t lose each other. Not that Sogo really had any worry about losing Riku. His red hair was quite iconic, and it made him look a little edgy even though he was probably one of the sweetest people alive. Riku squeezed his hand whenever he heard Sogo gasp. And Sogo could not stop gasping. He thought he was going to have a panic attack with how close they were, and it was before the concert even started. He didn’t know how he was going to react when the lights went down and he actually saw Trigger.

“Riku,” Sogo said solemnly once they reached their spots. “This is not a joke. If I pass out, I don’t want you to call an ambulance or anything. Just hold me up until I wake up. I will not leave until this concert is over.”

Riku laughed at him, nose crinkling as he waved Sogo off. “You won’t pass out! Besides, you’d probably want Tsunashi-san to give you mouth-to-mouth if you did.”

That sentence had Sogo’s hands flying to Riku’s shoulders, urgent purple eyes meeting cheerful red. “Do you think he is certified in something like that? This is a serious question and changes my passing out plan entirely.”

“You’re _not_ passing out.” Riku covered Sogo’s hands with his. “I promise.”

“But just in case I do,” Sogo said, “you know what needs to be done.”

Sogo spent the rest of the time before the live willing his heartbeat to slow down. He knew it wouldn’t, but he figured it was worth a try. He didn’t want it to work too hard and give out on him, but at the same time… if he died at a Trigger concert, maybe it’d be better for him.

Sogo gripped his lightsticks harder than he ever had before when the whole room went dark. He could feel the anticipation in the room. Everyone’s hearts were working at the exact same wildly fast pace. Every single person was breathing in sync, everyone let out the same cry when the lights flashed on and the three _gods_ were on stage before their eyes.

Sogo didn’t even know he could scream so loud. He didn’t even know where to look between the three of them. It was easy during the first song: he could just settle on whoever was center, and they’d switch out often. And Sogo tried to keep it up during the rest of the concert, but he couldn’t help but steal glances at the other members. Tsunashi-san’s dancing was sexy no matter what the song was. Kujo-san’s movements were incredibly precise, even more so than they seemed during all of the recordings Sogo had seen. Yaotome-san’s dancing was captivating as well, but what really got Sogo were the looks on his face. Sogo truly felt like this was the peak of his life; this was the best his pathetic existence was ever going to see, and he had to enjoy it as much as he could.

He started crying about halfway through. It was at that point where Tsunashi-san looked at him. Sogo _swore_ Tsunashi-san looked directly at him. Their eyes met, and Sogo knew that it’d have to end. He cried because it was all so beautiful, but it’d have to _end_ , and Sogo wondered if maybe he would drop dead just before the concert finished so he wouldn’t have to try and survive the bleakness of reality after seeing something so incredible.

His throat was raw by the end of it. Still, him and Riku couldn’t stop talking as they were herded out of the venue. They both had noticed many of the same things, but each of them also noticed smaller things the other didn’t catch. Like how Sogo described a lot of the things Tsunashi-san did, Riku had been paying attention to Kujo-san and Yaotome-san in the background. Sogo knew his voice was just hanging on by a thread. Tomorrow morning, it’d be completely shot, and he’d have to spend all day at Yamato’s house drinking throat coat to try and get it to some level of normal before returning home.

The night air was cool, yet somewhat sticky. Riku led Sogo down an empty street, stopping just before another corner.

“If you turn here, I promise you’ll get to meet Trigger,” he said. “I know it seems weird, but just trust me! Okay? I believe in you!”

“Riku, if I die—”

“I know, I have to deactivate your Twitter. I will.” Riku beamed at him, giving his hand a final firm squeeze before letting go. “I gotta go now. I can’t wait to see you again!”

They shared a nice, long hug before Riku walked back the way they came. Sogo took a deep breath before he stepped forward and turned, slowly walking down the side of the arena. It was a long while before he finally saw someone.

No, not someone. It was Tenn Kujo, arms crossed, wearing a blue baseball cap. He looked up when Sogo approached, and Sogo felt like he was frozen, just a few feet away from him.

“Sogo Osaka,” Kujo-san said, and Sogo felt like his heart had _stopped_ hearing his name from his lips. Tenn Kujo— _Tenn Kujo_!—knew his name. “You’re here because of… of Riku, right?”

Sogo nodded, dumbly. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was beginning to rethink what Riku’s connection must have been. Surely someone closer than any staff member, if _Tenn Kujo_ was referencing him so casually.

Kujo-san surveyed him, and Sogo felt uncomfortably vulnerable under his gaze. “Are you kind to him? To Riku?”

“Of course!” Sogo had managed to find his words somewhere, probably in the brief moment he had to regather himself when he hadn’t been thinking too much about Kujo-san himself. “He’s one of my closest friends. I’d do anything for him.”

Kujo-san smiled at that, just a brief flash of a smile Sogo had never seen in any photobook before. He stepped backward, placing his hand on a doorknob and pulling it open. “Follow me then.”

It took a few moments for Sogo’s mind to catch up with his body, but eventually he was following Kujo-san down a dimly lit hallway. His ears were ringing still, and he couldn’t help but stare at all the bustling staff members that Kujo-san navigated around expertly. None of them seemed to pay him any mind, although a few nodded when they saw Kujo-san.

They stopped at a door. Sogo had wanted to prepare himself further, but Kujo-san was opening the door and waving him in before Sogo could even really process the fact that he was about to enter Trigger’s dressing room.

He was overwhelmed when he stepped inside, barely even registering how close Kujo-san got when he closed the door behind Sogo. The room was a little hot and smelled like sweat. Yaotome-san sat on one of the couches, legs crossed, idly looking at his phone. Kujo-san had flopped down onto the couch next to him, holding what appeared to be an inhaler up to his lips. Tsunashi-san was standing. He had actually looked over at Sogo when he walked in, twisting the cap on his drink.

“Welcome!” Tsunashi-san smiled at him— _smiled_ at him! “Did you enjoy the show?”

Yaotome-san looked up, too, after Tsunashi-san’s acknowledgement. “So you’re the visitor? Sogo Osaka? Welcome.”

“Th-Thank you!” Sogo couldn’t help but bow; he felt like he didn’t even deserve to be on the same level as the men that stood before him. It felt a little odd with how relaxed the atmosphere was in the dressing room, but he still felt it right. When he straightened up, they were looking at him, a little amused.

“The show was fantastic! I loved it a lot. It was all I dreamed about,” Sogo continued. “I’ve been a fan for a long time, but this is the first concert I’ve been to. Thank you for such an exceptional performance.”

Yaotome-san laughed a little. “Yeah, sure.” He stood, then, walking right up to Sogo. It was taking all of Sogo’s strength not to try and hug him; that was what Yaotome-san was known for after all. Yaotome-san extended a hand to him. “Nice to meet you, Osaka.”

Sogo felt like he was going to cry when he shook Yaotome-san’s hand. He had a firm handshake, and even if it was only a few seconds long, Sogo knew he’d remember the moment for the rest of his life.

Yaotome-san retreated back to the couch after that. “You don’t have to stay rooted in one spot. You’ve got a little bit of time in here, so you should sit down.”

Sogo was happy to follow any order given to him from Yaotome-san. He stepped forward, glancing between the two couches. That was a tough decision: should he sit next to Kujo-san or Yaotome-san? He didn’t want to be strange and wait for so long, and he made the decision to sit near Kujo-san. He could see all three members of Trigger from there.

He didn't even know what else to say. He’d prepared for this moment, yet every single thing he’d planned had been wiped from his memory. He was starting to panic when Tsunashi-san said something.

“Are you in school? What do you study?” he asked.

Sogo’s throat was dry at the thought of Tsunashi-san wanting to know more about him. “Um, I’m in a business program,” he said, hoping his dissatisfaction wasn’t showing through. “I do study music on my own, though. I know how to play the piano and the guitar.”

“That’s nice! The guitar is really cool,” Tsunashi-san said. “Do you sing?”

Sogo’s face colored at that. “I… Yes, I do!”

“I figured as much,” Kujo-san said, the first thing he’d said the whole time. “Osaka, I have a proposition for you.”

Sogo shook his head wildly, face heating up even more. “I don’t sing professionally! I’ve never taken lessons.”

“That’s alright.” Kujo-san reached over and took a piece of paper from the table in front of them. He held it out to Sogo. “How about you audition for Yaotome Productions? I’ve secured you a spot. The information his on the paper.” He pointed at a small section on the corner. “If you decide to accept, then send me a text.”

Sogo held the paper almost reverently. What? He just… He could just _have_ Kujo-san’s number? He looked between the three of them, but none of them seemed to think it was such a big deal. He read the phone number over and over again, determined to commit it to memory in case anything happened to it.

“You… You want me to audition?” Sogo asked, just for confirmation.

Kujo-san nodded. “Someone’s called in a favor for you. It’d be a waste for you not to go, after all the trouble it took to get you an audition spot.”

“What he means,” Gaku interjected, “is that there’s no harm in trying. Even if you haven’t sung professionally before.”

“I think you could do it!” Tsunashi-san said. “We’ve heard good things about you. I’ll cheer you on!”

That was enough for Sogo. It was almost too much—the thought of Tsunashi-san rooting for him. In his mind, he’d accepted as soon as Kujo-san offered. But Tsunashi-san really sealed the deal. He’d audition even if it terrified him. Even if it _killed_ him.

The rest of the time passed by in a whirl. They fell into an easy conversation, and Sogo had felt so familiar he almost forgot who he was talking to. They didn’t talk about much, just a little shallowly about music and some rather mundane topics. Sogo never knew he’d be excited to talk about the weather, but he found his heart racing and he _desperately_ wanted to know more about how Tsunashi-san still thought it was a bit chilly even though it was beginning to warm up.

He got to shake everyone’s hands before time was up, and Kujo-san was leading him back down the same dim hallway. There were less stage tech bustling about, and the energy of the building as a whole seemed to be winding down.

Kujo-san lingered in the door as Sogo stepped back out into the night, into the real world he’d unfortunately have to go back to.

“Sogo Osaka,” Kujo-san said. “Seriously consider the offer. Don’t accept just to be polite. Accept because you want it.” He held eye contact with Sogo for a moment longer. “If you don’t want it—and I mean really want it—then don’t bother showing up.”

Sogo nodded, and the door shut.

He walked slowly to the train station, staring at the paper in his hands and rereading it over and over again. The audition date was a few weeks away, after Sogo’s classes were over for the semester. If he stopped focusing on his studies, he’d have enough time to prepare an adequate audition.

He stepped onto the train, shooting a text to Yamato that he was on his way. It was risky, but… but it seemed worth it. If Sogo didn’t take it, then he’d be stuck in classes he didn’t care for forever, securing assets that he didn’t fully understand until the day he died. He’d have to marry a girl his father picked out for him, produce an heir, and live his days in gray.

Halfway back, Sogo entered Kujo-san’s phone number into his phone.

 

 

> **SOGO:** I’ll audition. Thank you for the opportunity!
> 
> **KUJO-SAN:** I figured you would. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you there.
> 
> **KUJO-SAN:** Do not disappoint me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which yamato appears and i explore a little further into sogo's stan life  
> writing the audition made me think back to all of the auditions i've ever had in my life LOL where hardly any thoughts ran through my mind and i just. went for it.  
> anyway please enjoy!

Sogo stood, hands clasped in front of him.

He hated having to be a part of things like this. The parties his father held were always insincere, conversations laced with undertones that Sogo was constantly struggling to keep up with. He couldn’t tell if people were genuinely talking about the weather or trying to make some sort of business deal, and it all just made him want to step back into the wall and disappear.

He breathed in. Breathed out. Tried to stabilize himself before he threw himself further into a bad mood. He thought about what he’d been doing on Twitter earlier. He posted a tweet: 1 like = 1 pic of my fave. It got a large amount of likes, as expected, and Sogo was happy to procrastinate getting ready for the party by drowning himself in pictures of Trigger. It was still so unreal that he’d breathed the same air as them just a week ago.

He felt like he had been drunk when he fumbled with his spare key at Yamato’s apartment. Yamato had still been asleep when he arrived, and it really took all Sogo had not to wake him up and tell him everything. He made himself comfortable on the couch and tweeted about it, though. Just the concert; not anything past that. After all, he didn’t want any member of Trigger getting in trouble, or even anything being linked back to Riku’s connection…

Sogo woke up a little late that morning. Yamato was brewing coffee in the kitchen, nodding at Sogo upon seeing him awake.

“Good morning,” Sogo said, slightly hoarse. He was glad that it wasn’t as bad as he expected it to be.

“Throat coat?” Yamato asked, though he wasn’t really looking for an answer. He fished around in the cabinet for a bag of the stuff before beginning to make it for Sogo. “It seems like you had fun.”

“It was incredible!” Sogo stood up, stretched, and went to go sit at the counter. “The concert was fantastic. I thought I would pass out. Do you know how honored I’d feel to die at a Trigger concert?”

Yamato shook his head. “You’re not allowed to die, Sou. Not even at a Trigger concert.” He set a mug in front of Sogo, steam gently rising from it. “Your thing came in, by the way.”

“It’s probably my poster.” Sogo sipped the tea, crinkling his nose at the sweetness. It still was something he wasn’t used to. He’d began drinking it when he learned how much idols and stage actors used it, but every time he wondered if it was really worth it.

“Hmmm,” Yamato hummed. “You look like something happened.”

“You’ll never guess. Never in a million years would you ever guess what happened.” Sogo paused for a moment, waiting to see if Yamato would even try to guess, but the words fell out of his mouth just as Yamato was opening his. “I met Trigger after the concert!”

“What? That’s great! How?” Yamato asked. He didn’t really get any of it, but he always was happy for Sogo when good things happened. “Oh, I’m making eggs.”

“Eggs are good.” Sogo took another painful sip of throat coat. He knew it was working, but he still hated it. “It was because of Riku. Can you believe it? He led me somewhere and told me they’d be down an alley.”

Sogo realized how bad it sounded as soon as Yamato looked at him over his glasses, sharp eyes scolding him. “Some random guy you met on the Internet told you your idols would be in some alley, and you believed him?”

“He’s not some random guy! He’s my friend. And yes, I did. I would die for Trigger.” Sogo nodded, mostly to himself. Of _course_ he would die for Trigger. Wouldn’t anyone? “Kujo-san himself was there waiting for me.”

“Really?” Yamato asked. “That’s the center, isn’t it? Is that the one you like?”

“I love all of them. But yes, he’s the center. He was even more beautiful in person. He was leading me through the back of the venue. He moved so gracefully! I expected it, but it was so different actually seeing him. And he was just _walking_.”

Sogo found himself getting more and more worked up, all over again, as he told the story to Yamato. He probably went a little bit overboard on the details, judging by the looks Yamato gave him whenever he started to ramble a bit about Kujo-san’s hands or Yaotome-san’s eyes or Tsunashi-san’s _everything_. He couldn’t help it; he’d been dreaming about such a scenario since he discovered them. How could he not? Yamato listened to him patiently, even asking questions about what happened.

“And then,” Sogo said, “Kujo-san told me to audition for YaoPro. He gave me his phone number and everything.”

“What?” Yamato was shaking his head again. “No. You’re not doing that. They’re probably just impersonators.”

“It’s real. I promise it is!” Sogo started pouring hot sauce on his eggs as they reached him. “Even if it isn’t… I want to go anyway. What if it is? Imagine if I do well.”

“Sou, when was the last time you heard of someone meeting their idol and immediately getting a chance to audition for the same company? I thought that stuff only happens in your weird stories.” Yamato sighed. “They didn’t even hear you sing. Or see you dance. They just talked to you.”

“I want to _try_!” Sogo shouted, a little louder than he’d meant to. “I… Sorry. But you know what this could mean for me.”

Green eyes held purple for just a few moments before Yamato relented, looking down. “You’re gonna die with all that hot sauce, Sou.”

Sogo set the bottle down. “I’d rather die than pass an opportunity like this up.”

It was quiet. Sogo was glad for the burn the Tabasco gave him. It was distracting enough to help him cool down. He knew Yamato cared for him. Yamato just wanted the best for him. He knew Sogo got a little reckless, sometimes, when it came to idols. Sogo sighed when he was finished with his food.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I won’t do it, then.”

“No, do it. You’re right.”

“What?”

“I want you to get away from your family more than anything. If it means going to a suspicious audition, then it’s worth a shot.” Yamato smiled then, soothing Sogo. “But I’m going, too, so at least someone can find your body.”

“I _swear_ it’ll be real.” Sogo took a final sip of the tea, feeling rather triumphant when he didn’t grimace at the taste. “I’m not allowed to die, remember?”

Yamato laughed at him, then. “Yeah, yeah. Using my own words against me, hm? I see how it is.”

Sogo was jarred out of his memories by his father’s hand on his shoulder. His mother stood in front of him with another woman and a man he didn’t recognize. They were smiling at him, even as he stiffened up in response to his father’s touch, and he stared just above them. He’d learned that trick from Tsunashi-san. Looking above someone’s eyes still made it seem like you were looking directly into their eyes.

“Sogo, you remember Amemura-chan, right? These are her parents,” his mother said, with that absent smile on her face she always had.

Sogo bowed, effectively freeing himself from his father’s grip. “Of course I remember,” he lied, because really he hadn’t the faintest memory of ever meeting anyone with the last name Amemura. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

“You’ve done a fine job raising him, Osaka-san,” Mrs. Amemura mused as Sogo straightened up. She surveyed Sogo carefully. “He’s so well trained.”

“Of course. Only the best in my household,” Sogo’s father said. “I’m sure your daughter finds his company pleasant as well.”

“She did talk about him often,” Mr. Amemura agreed. “I predict in the future they’ll be getting along quite well.”

“I’ll see to it.”

Sogo swallowed hard as the conversation continued on. He gathered that the Amemuras were high-up within another company Sogo’s father was trying to acquire. A private research center, likely. They were in the business of medical equipment, and it wasn’t uncommon for Sogo’s father to supply to scholars.

He knew what it all meant for him. His father would set him to court the daughter for a while, until the asset was secured. It was the part of business he hated the most. Lying for one’s personal gain. Sogo didn’t care one way or the other about any hospital using their scalpels or whatever. It wasn’t like the goods were even made decently. Exploitation was one of the first things Sogo learned about business: build factories in countries with a large unemployed population and small protection for workers, and you could pay them as little as possible for quality work. Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting, taking advantage of people like that.

Sogo knew exactly, then, his plan of action.

Nothing was going to stop him from becoming an idol.

* * *

“One and two, three, four, five and six, seven, eight,” Yamato counted along to Sogo’s dance steps. “You’re doing good. Why am I counting?”

“Just to make sure my timing is perfect.”

Sogo fanned himself as the music ended. He’d been practicing in Yamato’s apartment all day, every other day for the past week. He was glad Yamato agreed to help him; he was the more experienced of the two in _actual_ performance art. Sogo thought he knew enough, just by watching idols, but he really didn’t know the half of it.

He found himself to be rather good at picking up dances. Kujo-san had told him to pick a dance from another group under YaoPro. It was easy finding a clear video of it, and Sogo had been practicing it in his room before a chilling conversation at the dinner table.

“Last night, I thought I heard music,” his father had said. “It was interesting, considering you slept early last night due to your exam this morning. Perhaps it was a ringtone.”

“It was,” Sogo nearly shouted, frantically. “I woke up to a missed call this morning, so it most definitely was a ringtone.”

His father’s jaw tightened. “Get a ringtone less ridiculous.”

So practices were then forcefully moved to Yamato’s apartment, under the guise of studying. Sogo’s father respected Yamato anyway, mainly because he respected Yamato’s family, so it all seemed believable. Sogo just had to make sure to carry his books with him to Yamato’s place and back, otherwise it’d all be over.

In reality, Sogo had nearly completely abandoned studying altogether. His final exams were the week before the audition; he didn’t really have time to study. Well, he did have time, but he’d rather use it practicing. He wouldn’t need business classes or politics classes or _any_ classes as an idol. If he just focused on his singing and his dancing, he would be okay.

It’d been a little difficult since the party, as Sogo’s father seemed to be pressuring him more after the arrangement with the Amemuras. Sogo still showed up to classes. He knew his father would do anything possible to check his attendance records. But he spent most of his time on his laptop, looking up different breathing techniques for performances. Yamato had been teaching him well, but it was still good to read things in print just to solidify the knowledge.

“Let’s take a break,” Yamato said. He stood up from his spot on the couch, stretching.

“No, I should keep trying,” Sogo said, in between breaths. “I should sing while I do it this time. Just to make sure it sounds good enough still.”

“It’s been hours, Sou. You shouldn’t push yourself too hard.” Yamato got that tone of voice he always did when Sogo wasn’t taking care of himself, and Sogo knew it’d be pointless to argue. “You’re doing really well, y’know? I don’t think anyone’s gonna guess you’re a fanboy.”

Sogo shook his head. He still wasn’t as precise as the group in the video was. They’d definitely know. He had to be as perfect as he could be. He knew it was unrealistic, considering idol groups dance for a living, and he had only been dancing for… maybe two weeks or so. He’d seen plenty of dance cover artists on YouTube, though, and they all made it look so easy. Some even uploaded side-by-sides of when they first learned the dance compared to six months later. He just needed to have that sort of improvement.

But he didn’t have six months. He had more like six days. If he just aimed for a month’s worth of improvement every single day, he’d be good in time for the audition. It couldn’t be _that_ hard.

“I really should keep practicing,” Sogo insisted. “If I’m not good enough—”

“Then you won’t get chosen,” Yamato said. “I know you want it, but have you ever thought about what’s gonna happen if you don’t get it?”

Sogo said nothing.

“The entertainment industry is cutthroat. If they don’t like something, they won’t take you. You could put on the best audition any of them have ever seen, but they’ll throw you to the side because they don’t like the shape of your face.” Yamato spoke bitterly, probably about something he wouldn’t tell Sogo. They were close, but there were some things the two of them refused to share with the other, and they’d both grown to accept it.

Still, Yamato continued, “I’m not saying you should give up hope. I’m just saying you shouldn’t be working too hard if nothing’s guaranteed. I know your guy got you a spot for an audition, but that doesn’t mean you’ve got a spot within the company. Do you understand?”

Breathless, Sogo nodded. He didn’t want to hear it. Not any of it. But he knew he needed to. He crossed his arms, suddenly feeling very cool with the sweat still soaking through his shirt. His constant practicing really was doing a number on him. He hadn’t slept for more than four hours in days, and he really, _really_ didn’t know how he was going to take any of his finals. He wasn’t really eating well, either, and he couldn’t help but throw vicious insults at himself whenever he messed up.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up at Yamato. He smiled, despite his words. “Hey. Don’t look so down; I said you’re doing well. I wouldn’t lie to you. I know I don’t really get any of this, but I get _you_. I know you want it. Probably more than anyone else is going to want it that day.”

“Yeah,” Sogo agreed, rather dumbly. “I want… I don’t want to be a lawyer, or a businessman, or whatever else sending me to law school is supposed to accomplish. I think it has to be this.”

“I think you could get in on heart alone. But it doesn’t work that way.” Yamato ruffled Sogo’s hair. “But you also can’t get in if you’re dead, so you should rest. You want me to take you home?”

Sogo considered it. Either way, he wouldn’t be practicing any more that night. It’d probably be nicer to stay with Yamato a little longer. Just so he wouldn’t have to go home. But… he figured it might be better to get home early so his father didn’t start suspecting him of anything.

“Yes, please,” Sogo decided.

Six days. Just six more days.

* * *

“You got this, Sou. I believe in you.”

No matter how much Yamato said it, Sogo’s heart wouldn’t stop racing. They were standing just a little ways down the sidewalk from YaoPro. Sogo couldn’t believe he was so close to it, first of all, and that he was about to go into it, second of all. He couldn’t believe he was really going to audition. It didn’t feel real. Even if he’d been working his ass off all week, it didn’t feel real.

“Are you ready to go in?” Yamato asked, carefully.

“Don’t leave yet,” Sogo blurted when Yamato’s hands had started to leave his shoulders. “Just… Just a second.”

“I won’t leave until you’re ready.” Yamato’s fingertips rubbed gently along Sogo’s tension. It was soothing. Yamato always knew how to calm him down. “Let’s go over the plan again.”

“I go in, do my thing, meet you down the road. Then, we go to a cafe, and I don’t think about it until I get a definite answer,” Sogo recited. “This is terrifying. What if I don’t show up?”

“Then you become a lawyer,” Yamato said flatly. “Sou, you’ve been working _so_ hard. The worst that happens is that they say no. And if that happens, you’ll still live. I promise. I’ll help however I can.” Yamato dropped his hands from Sogo’s shoulders. “But you’re not going to know if you don’t try, okay? It’s your choice.”

Sogo nodded. He knew all of that already. It just helped to hear it again. It helped ground him. Even if becoming an idol was his top method of getting away from his father, Yamato would help him develop a back-up plan. If it went badly, he didn’t _have_ to become a lawyer.

“Thank you, Yamato. I feel better,” he said. “I… I’ll go in now.”

Yamato smiled, clapping him on the shoulder. “I believe in you! No matter what happens,  I’ll always be here.”

Walking into YaoPro felt like a dream. Kujo-san had mailed him (well, technically, Yamato) a small key card after he confirmed that he’d be doing the audition. All it had written on it was “SOGO OSAKA - AUDITION - TENN KUJO”. Sogo hardly felt worthy enough for his name to be on the same card as _Tenn Kujo’s_!

And it was spectacular, how he’d followed Kujo-san’s instructions on where to go, only needing to show his card to staff members and they’d just… let him go. He’d definitely have to write something up later for Twitter. He wondered if anyone would even believe him! There was no reason not to… It wasn’t like Sogo was desperate for followers or retweets. He had plenty of those already without an audition story.

Sogo felt awful as soon as he stepped into the audition room. There was a good amount of people there already, all looking one hundred times more qualified than Sogo. They looked like they’d been working their whole lives for this. They probably deserved it more than Sogo, anyway.

He was ushered to a sign-in and then ordered to wait until his name was called. Sogo took a seat in an empty chair, a little ways away from some of the others. He was sure he’d puke if he opened his mouth to talk to anyone, let alone practice. He was shaking like he’d been in the tundra, but his hands wouldn’t stop no matter how much he sat on them.

He tried to think back to some of the breathing exercises he read about. It helped, a little, and he decided to look around at everyone else while he breathed. There was a thin girl in the corner, singing to herself and dancing somewhat plainly. Another girl’s mother was helping her remember her choreography. An ordinary-looking guy was standing off to the side, hitting notes that seemed _impossibly_ high.

Sogo’s eyes fell upon a blue-haired boy he recognized, oddly enough. He was a rather popular dance cover artist on YouTube. There was no way Sogo would be able to recall his real name, but his screen name was something like Purinrin4. Sogo had thought it a little childish, but the boy was truly a fantastic dancer. If anyone in this room made it, it would have to be that guy.

The boy made eye contact with Sogo, held it for just a second. He looked away, rolling his eyes and slumping down into his chair. Well, geez.

“Sogo Osaka?”

Sogo nearly jumped out of his skin when his name was called, but he stood up slowly and… And he walked through the door.

* * *

“When you go in,” the dark-haired boy said, “state your name, age, and the song title clearly, then begin your routine.”

“I understand. Thank you, um...” Sogo smiled a little.

“Iori Izumi.” He adjusted his hold on his clipboard, glancing down at the papers. “It isn’t very important. You’ll only need to know it if you advance.”

“Right.”

Neither of them said anything after that. Sogo didn’t really know what to say. Iori probably didn’t want to hear any of it. He had a lot of people to run, anyway, so Sogo figured it just made his job easier if he didn’t try to make any conversation.

The door at the end of the hallway opened, and a young man emerged. He looked at his feet as he walked.

“Right through those doors, Osaka-san. Good luck,” Iori said, and Sogo would have thought he meant it if it weren’t for the business smile on his face.

* * *

Sogo felt like he was moving on autopilot as he walked into the room. He was glad for it. All of Yamato’s help had really been worth it. He didn’t even really have to think about what he was going to say.

He stood in front of the table. There were three men sitting there, none of which Sogo recognized. None of them looked very friendly. Behind the three of them, there was a camera pointing directly at Sogo. One of the men leaned back, hitting a button on the camera with a practiced hand.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said.

Sogo took a deep breath.

“Good morning! My name is Sogo Osaka.”

No response. That was okay. The extra greeting was just to test acoustics anyway. Yamato had taught him that. It was extremely helpful.

“I’m twenty years old. I’ll be performing Ecstasy by Yozora.”

Carefully, he began. It didn’t even feel like he was shaking anymore. It felt like he was in Yamato’s living room, spinning on the carpet as Yamato counted for him. Like he was in his bedroom whispering the lyrics and checking his form in the mirror as quietly as possible.

He felt free. _Free_. He was doing his absolute best, and if performing on stage even felt half as good as that… Sogo would die for the chance to get there.

“Thank you,” one of the men said as Sogo finished. Emotionless.

* * *

 

 

> **RIKU:** Sogo!!!!!!! Your audition was last week right!!!!! Howd it go?
> 
> **RIKU:** Sorry I didnt say anything earleir, I’ve been busy
> 
> **RIKU:** earlier* lol
> 
> **SOGO:** I think it was the best I’ve ever done, but I don’t think it was enough.
> 
> **RIKU:** :(((((
> 
> **RIKU:** You probably did great!! Youve been working hard
> 
> **SOGO:** That’s what Yamato said, too…
> 
> **RIKU:** Well hes right too. Keep me posted ok!!!
> 
> **SOGO:** Wait, I think I just got an email from YaoPro…
> 
> **RIKU:** SOGO!!!!! Dont tease me >_<
> 
> **SOGO:** aksls
> 
> **SOGO:** AKSJSFKSLFAJF
> 
> **SOGO:** DHDASKLHFDGHALKSGHFS
> 
> **RIKU:** aldksalfALKSDJALSJ?????
> 
> **SOGO:** RIKU
> 
> **SOGO:** I DID IT
> 
> **RIKU:** KAFDLAGLHADKJHFG
> 
> **RIKU:** ADJDFLSJFSGJGKFLG
> 
> **SOGO** : ASLKFLKAJDSFGJS
> 
> **RIKU** : I LOVE YOU SO MUCH SOGO I TOLD YOU YOUD GET IN
> 
> **RIKU** : YOU HAVE AN IDOLS HEART I KNEW THEYD LIKE YOU
> 
> **SOGO** : THIS ISN’T REAL!! PLEASE PINCH ME. OR WORSE.
> 
> **RIKU** : DID YOU TELL YAMATO
> 
> **SOGO** : I’m about to.
> 
> **RIKU** : WHY ARE YOU SERIOUS ALL OF A SUDDEN
> 
> **SOGO** : SORRY, I FORGOT TO TURN CAPS LOCK BACK ON.

 

Sogo kept rereading the e-mail. Just to make sure it was real. Like, actually real. It didn’t feel real. Nothing did. He was crying. He really was; there were tears streaming down his face. He was glad it was late at night. There was no chance on anyone walking in on him.

Millions of thoughts raced through his mind. What next? He’d be an idol now. For at least a month. Maybe. That was dizzying. He’d be working under YaoPro now. _YaoPro_. With _Trigger_. What?

 

 

 

> **SOGO** : Hey, Yamato… About my audition.
> 
> **YAMATO** : Again, Sou? I told you it was fine.
> 
> **SOGO** : Hmmm…
> 
> **YAMATO** : Pleeaaase stop stressing. It won’t get anything done.
> 
> **SOGO** : [ATTCHMNT: Screenshot]
> 
> **YAMATO** : Holy shit
> 
> **YAMATO** : Congrats!!! I told you you could do it.
> 
> **YAMATO** : You deserve this!!
> 
> **SOGO** : Thank you. For everything.
> 
> **YAMATO** : No problem. I’d do anything to get you out of that house.
> 
> **YAMATO** : Speaking of which.
> 
> **YAMATO** : E-mail says they’re providing you with somewhere to live? So let’s move you out ASAP
> 
> **SOGO** : Next week. Next Friday. That’s the soonest.
> 
> **YAMATO** : It’s a done deal. Be ready.
> 
> **YAMATO** : You’re not looking back.
> 
>  

The thought was so thrilling that Sogo kept rereading Yamato's message over and over again. He really wouldn't be looking back. After next Friday, he'd never have to sit in this wretched room in this wretched house with this wretched family ever again. He'd be all by himself. As terrifying as it was, he'd be  _all by himself_ , and what's more—he'd be an  _idol_.

There was only one thing to do now. He opened Twitter, thumbs dancing over the keyboard as he thought of what to write. He tried to put himself in his followers' place. If  _he_ was following someone with an in at YaoPro (aside from Riku, who kept it as much of a secret as possible), what would he want to know?

  

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/159726054@N08/41730670740/in/dateposted-public/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [makes a twitter account for my fic] is this now considered a multimedia project


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! i'm hoping you all are responsible readers and taking note of the tags in order to keep yourselves safe, buuuut just in case you haven't, i'd like to take this time to warn you. this chapter is a little heavier with implied/referenced self-harm, suicidal thoughts (which is a new tag i've added this chapter), and just general depression. sogo's going through a rough time
> 
> with that being said, i hope you enjoy! this chapter is a little short, but i really feel sogo here. him and i are very similar. i enjoy writing him very much

Sogo glanced around his room, throat completely dry. Well, it wouldn’t be his room for much longer, and that fact was made clearer and clearer the less of him that was in it. He’d been telling himself he was excited to get out for the longest time, but now that it was actually happening…

He was just scared. For the future. For everything. He was scared of being dragged back. He was scared of how tough being an idol was actually going to be. He was scared of leaving, of failing, of having to come back with his tail between his legs.

If he left, he’d never be welcomed back. His father would kill him if he even tried. His parents would probably get the driver to act as his personal bodyguard. He’d be taken to and from school, probably walked to each and every one of his classes. His phone and computer would both be confiscated, and he’d be given some crappy old laptop with dozens of parental control locks weighing it down. The only time he’d be alone would be in the bathroom, likely, and whenever it was like that, he always ended up hurting himself, and…

Sogo sighed. Maybe he shouldn’t take the risk. He could just email YaoPro right now and tell them sorry, but another opportunity came up. He’d disappoint Kujo-san, but who cared? Kujo-san probably couldn’t even remember his face anymore. Sogo was another drop of water in the ocean. He’d been like that his whole life. It wasn’t any different because Riku had gotten him an in.

Oh. Riku. He’d disappoint Riku, too. Riku had been so excited for him, texting him almost nonstop throughout the week. Sogo wondered if the boy had anything other to do than imagine Sogo’s new idol life. Didn’t he help out at his parents’ shop every day? He should be focusing on doing his work properly rather than worrying about Sogo. But if Sogo disappointed him enough by dropping out… Then Riku wouldn’t want to talk to Sogo all that much anymore. Sogo highly valued his Internet friendships, but he figured it was probably much different for other people. If Sogo never responded to Riku again, Riku would get over it. Surely, he would. He wouldn’t miss Sogo after a little while. Nobody ever did.

Sogo hadn’t even realized his nails were digging into his palm so harshly. These thoughts were teetering awfully hard on the line between “anxious about idol work” and “suicidal.”

“You okay?” Yamato asked, stepping back into Sogo’s room.

Yamato would be disappointed, too… They’d spent a few hours planning on how to do all of this before Sogo figured out when the fewest amount of people would be at his house. He’d said Friday on a whim, but as it turned out… His father was out at work as usual, and his mother had taken the driver with her to visit her friend’s beach house for the weekend. That only left the maid and the chef at home, but Sogo assumed he could slip them a bit of cash to keep quiet.

Yamato showed up as soon as his mother had left that morning. They immediately set to work packing up all of Sogo’s things and moving them into his car. Yamato was going to drive him the whole way to the apartment. Sogo couldn’t be more grateful.

“I’m fine,” Sogo said. He flipped the folded piece of paper he was holding over in his fingers. A letter he had written. Essentially, it was a big “fuck you” straight to his father’s face, and he planned on leaving it delicately on his bed. “Sorry.”

Yamato held Sogo’s gaze for a moment before bending down to start shoving more merchandise into a box. “It’s fine. I know it’s hard.”

Sogo nodded, mind already beginning to drift again. How could Yamato know how hard it was? Sure, Yamato wasn’t on fantastic terms with his family, either, but he wasn’t blatantly abandoning them.

Sogo knew he shouldn’t feel bad about leaving. Still, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. After all, it was his family. They raised him. Even if he hated it, they raised him, and they were always telling him about how he should be grateful for it. About how he could repay them by taking care of them in their old age. That was Sogo’s duty as a son: grow up well, take over the family business, produce an heir, keep making enough money that no Osaka family member would ever have to have money anxiety.

At the same time, this was the same family that abandoned his uncle. His uncle, who Sogo loved more than anyone else in the world. He was the only family member that never made Sogo feel worried or scared or like he had to keep his true feelings to himself. His uncle was always telling him to express himself. To make noise. To be loud. To be unapologetically himself.

Sogo always felt so free spending time with him. Even when he was backstage at some gig and had to be quiet and stay still, the performances his uncle gave always had his adrenaline pumping. It was during one of those times, in the wings during a show, that Sogo knew he had to continue his uncle’s legacy. He had to rebel.

But when his uncle died… Sogo felt like his fire was fizzling out. Like he was at the end of his rope. Things just got worse from there on out. Well, it really was the same as before, but he had no outlet without his uncle. That was probably why he had even started hurting himself… Without his uncle’s energy, he had nowhere else to turn to for relief.

He hated those rough years where he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t have anything to do. There was hardly anything to prove that he existed those few years besides school photos and his mangled thighs. He’d even drifted apart from Yamato. That was a time period where Yamato did most of the talking, and Sogo would sit next to him in the grass during PE nodding and listening and sharing scratching-the-surface anecdotes about his own life.

But he thought maybe he should be glad to have gone through that. He’d discovered Twitter in his despair, following a lot of other teens that were just as depressed as he was. He hadn’t even been a teenager yet, then. He was barely twelve with unrestricted Internet access. He’d partially believed that Twitter just made him worse. That he was doing everything he did for attention at first, and then surrounding himself with negativity just made it real.

(“That’s not—” Yamato had cut himself off with a huff when Sogo told him all of this. It was their last year of high school, at three in the morning one summer. “People don’t just hurt themselves without being bad already. You were bad already.”)

That was likely why he latched onto Trigger so hard. He had wiped his account clean when he discovered them. He felt bad for the small amount of followers he accumulated during his time as a vent account, but he figured it was better for him, personally, not to be surrounded by sad posts all the time. If he didn’t have his uncle to latch onto, then at least he had Trigger.

(It took him a little while to realize that hyperfixating on something wasn’t the way to solving his problems. Solving problems took work, self-criticism, fixing things. He was still working on it, obviously, but at least now he knew it wasn’t a group alone that was helping him feel better.)

Sogo kept turning the letter over and over. He’d taken ages to write it. He rewrote it quite a few times, and Yamato finally made him stop when Sogo was getting a little obsessive over it. In a way, Sogo felt like he’d been writing it in his head ever since his uncle passed. But at the same time, when the paper was right in front of him, he had frozen up.

All he had to do was put it down and leave it. Set it on the bare mattress when all of his things were gone, walk out the front door, and drive off. Sitting there wondering how his father would react when he found it felt vaguely reminiscent of when he’d imagine his own suicide, and that probably wasn’t doing much to help his guilt go away.

He still wondered how his father would react. He wondered if his father would even notice he was gone. He wondered how _long_ it’d take him to notice. Maybe his father would assume he was busy or studying or just being rebellious, and it’d be until his mother got home before he realized. Maybe his father would come storming up the steps shortly after returning from work, angrily throwing open the door because Sogo hadn’t come down the first time he called.

Maybe they’d never notice. Maybe they’d resume their lives, never go into Sogo’s room. Maybe they were waiting for the moment Sogo would leave, and they’d never touch his room, see his letter. His memory would disappear just as his uncle’s had, and every frequent party guest would be left scratching their heads wondering if the Osakas ever _did_ have a son.

“Sogo.” Yamato sat down on the bed beside him. Their arms brushed. “You’re not okay.”

Sogo said nothing. He just shook his head and continued to flip the letter. He was tempted to unfold it.

“I don’t know how to tell you this nicely,” Yamato said, “so I won’t. Your family does not give a shit about you.”

Sogo flinched. “I know,” he said, but it still stung to hear.

“Then you also should know it’s fine to not give a shit about them. It’s fine to get up and leave. You deserve better than this.” Yamato wasn’t a touchy-feely type of person like Riku was, so Sogo was surprised when Yamato suddenly put an arm around his shoulders. “I’ve been telling you for years, and you’ve never believed me. You’re not a bad person, you know?”

Sogo felt tears welling up in his eyes. He’d been crying an awful lot lately, especially in front of other people, and he wasn’t really sure how to feel about it.

“I don’t know,” Sogo decided. “I think I’m decent.”

Yamato laughed. “Decent? Okay. That’s a start. You’re allowed to think you’re decent.”

“I just don’t know how I feel about this anymore,” Sogo said truthfully. “It’s difficult to think that I’m really leaving. I feel like I’m being inconsiderate or rude. What if I don’t make it? What if I have to come back?”

“You’re not being rude.” Yamato slowly rubbed Sogo’s shoulder. “And I’m not letting you come back here. If you end up being the shittiest idol ever, you’re not telling your parents, and you’ll just live with me. Okay?”

Sogo nodded. He wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve.

“Just think about how awful you’ve felt because of living here. I don’t want you to feel awful, but you and I both know that you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you discovering Trigger.” Yamato’s words were slightly ominous, but Sogo knew it. “And now you get to be just like them. You can’t back down now.”

“I… I suppose.” Sogo shrugged Yamato’s arm off his shoulder as he stood. “Thank you. I think I just needed a little bit of reassurance.”

Sogo finally set aside the letter and got back to packing up his things. Mostly everything was gone. It was just finding the last bits of his Trigger merchandise he hid that was the trouble. It was only about an hour before the last box was loaded up into the car, and Sogo took one more look around his room and bathroom before he stood in front of his bed.

He stood there for longer than he thought. Yamato had come in again.

“We’ve got everything now,” Yamato said. “Just put the letter down. Walk out of here. Don’t look back.”

When Yamato’s footsteps disappeared, Sogo took a shuddering breath. He ran his fingers tightly along the fold of the note, creasing it one last time before he set it down. Turned around. Dragged his hand along the staircase and jumped down the last two steps. His pace quickened before he knew it, and he was nearly sprinting to Yamato’s car, slamming the front door. He leapt into the passenger seat and told Yamato to floor it, and he rolled down the window and _screamed_.

He did it.

He made it.

  
  


_To: Soushi Osaka_

_I don’t really know how to start a letter like this. I don’t really know how to start it properly. But you already know there’s a lot of things I don’t know. You’ve told me almost every day of my life._

_I know you think you’re a great parent. I believe you’re allowed to think that. In your mind, you’ve been the greatest parent. You think you haven’t done anything wrong. You think you’ve been raising me to be the perfect heir to the company._

_I can’t keep this up much longer. You don’t know how terribly you’ve treated me. You don’t know how many nights I’ve spent in tears because of you. You don’t know how close I’ve come to killing myself because of you. That’s why you think so highly of yourself. You think I don’t know anything, but you’re the one who doesn’t know the half of what goes on in his own home._

_When you read this, I’ll be gone. I’ll be miles and miles away from the spot you’re standing in, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it anymore. Don’t worry about notifying my school. I’ve already told them I won’t be returning next semester._

_Don’t come looking for me. Don’t even try._

_Tell Mom not to bother either. Tell her I wish her the best._

_As for you… I hope one day you realize what you’ve been doing to me. I hope you’re lying there in your old age without a child to take care of you, and you understand fully. Maybe one day I’ll forgive you._

_Maybe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good news, sogo!!! things are gonna start looking up. YOU DID IT!! I'M SO PROUD OF YOU!!!
> 
>  
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/mezzosaka)


	4. Chapter 4

Sogo learned quickly that moving was a lot more work than he thought.

It didn’t help that the provided apartment was a few floors up. The apartment building wasn’t bad by any means, but Sogo would have felt _horrible_ hogging the elevator, so he and Yamato hauled everything up using the stairwell. It made Sogo realize that he needed to do some serious strength training soon, and it made Yamato start trying to convince him to use the elevator just once.

When everything was said and done, they ended up collapsing on Sogo’s new mattress for a while. Just to catch their breath. Just long enough that the fact that Sogo really had made it out was starting to really set in, and it was… strangely, a little depressing. With the hum of the fan and his own breathing drowning everything else out, all he could think of was how everyone would react to find him gone.

He kind of hated thinking about it so deeply. It hurt to think of his mother crying. He knew it shouldn’t hurt; she was just as big of a player in this whole thing as his father was. But it hurt. His father would probably be angry. Maybe he’d send out a search party to wrangle him back in. Maybe that girl he was supposed to court would feel sad at the thought of never seeing her potential suitor again. Or maybe she’d forgotten all about him already.

“Hey,” Yamato said. He rolled onto his side and poked Sogo’s shoulder. “You’re all quiet now. You know I don’t like it when you get too quiet.”

“Sorry,” was all Sogo had to offer.

“Don’t be.” Yamato sat up. Sogo watched as his back straightened out with a soft sigh. “Today’s been a lot for you, huh? You’re allowed to feel weird.”

Sogo stared up at the ceiling, trying his best to tether his mind to his body again. “Weird… Yeah, that’s how I’d put it.” He lifted his hand to his face and messed with his hair for a second. “I feel very weird.”

“That’s okay.” A beat. “Are you hungry? Let’s go get something to eat.”

Sogo sat up then. No amount of feeling weird was going to distract him from the growling of his stomach. His mind could be as far away as it wanted to, but his body was definitely about to walk right out of here and eat something good. Something hot.

Strangely enough, sitting in a cozy little restaurant with Yamato was just the thing Sogo needed to feel like himself again. For the first time since the night before, Sogo finally felt like he was watching his life through his own eyes. His emotions felt real again, and the burning of the hot sauce down his throat reinforced the realness of everything.

They sat in that restaurant for a little longer than planned. Yamato kept retelling insane stories from the past few weeks a little more animatedly than Sogo remembered them being. And when they’d exhausted those topics, they recalled bits and pieces of their high school years. Somehow, the two of them managed to dodge the lowest parts, and it made Sogo feel a little happier.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Yamato said, for the first time, when they hugged in the sticky evening air. “I’m gonna miss getting your weird packages. And keeping you some nights. And calling you.”

“You can still call me,” Sogo said, muffled against Yamato’s shoulder. “And I can still put in your place as the shipping address if you really mean it.”

“Sou,” Yamato said, and Sogo knew he was crying. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”

“I’ll visit,” Sogo promised. He was getting a little choked up, too. It wouldn’t be the same. He hadn’t even considered that it wouldn’t be the same. He hadn’t even considered that this could very well be the last time they ever saw each other if fate would have it like that, and he hated it.

“Yeah.” Yamato hugged Sogo a little tighter before he let go. “You’ve gotta visit and call. And text. You’re not allowed to forget me even when you’re all rich and famous.”

Sogo shook his head. “How could I? You’ve… You’ve done so much for me. Thank you. I… Everything. Thank you for everything, ever since we met. You’ve always been taking care of me. I—”

“No! No more.” Yamato waved Sogo off. “I really appreciate that. But I don’t want to keep crying.” He looked up at the sky. Sogo followed his gaze. “It really was no problem, though. You’re my best friend, Sou. Just repay me by doing your best. By staying alive.”

Sogo watched as Yamato looked down, met his eyes again. He smiled, a little sad, and poked Sogo square in the shoulder.

“By taking care of me in my old age!”

“What? You’re not that much older than me!” Sogo rolled his eyes.

They laughed some more, talked some more before it was finally time for Yamato to go. Sogo stood on the sidewalk for a long time after Yamato drove away. He only realized how late it was getting when he stifled a yawn and figured it best to go back inside.

He used the elevator on his way up, for the first time since he got there. It was really nice, with a giant mirror on one side. Sogo looked at himself on his way up. He definitely didn’t look like an idol. He looked like a normal guy. He hated it. He was always told he wasn’t ugly, but that just meant he was plain. And looking plain was arguably worse than looking ugly.

With a soft ding, the elevator doors rolled open, and Sogo set off down the hallway. He unlocked the door and stepped, strangely, into a lit apartment. He could have sworn he turned off the lights before he left, but—

Oh. Right. His unitmate would be living here, too. Sogo hadn’t got the chance to meet him or even learn who he was, really. He had felt bad picking a room before this mysterious other person had even gotten the chance to see either room, so he ended up picking the smaller one. If there was a problem, then he’d be happy to switch.

“Um. Hello,” Sogo called into the apartment, because saying _excuse me_ would be awfully weird.

He heard shuffling coming from the other room before the door opened, and a boy sauntered out. Oh! It was the blue-haired dance cover artist from the auditions. The one who dismissed Sogo rather flippantly. It had left a sour taste in Sogo’s mouth, but he put it past him.

“I know you,” the boy said. “You’re from the audition. I saw you there.”

“Yes! I saw you, too.” Sogo smiled, extending a hand. “I’m Sogo Osaka.”

“Tamaki Yotsuba.” The boy looked at Sogo’s hand, but didn’t take it. “Sou-chan.”

“Um, sure.” Sogo laughed, a little awkwardly, and he let his hand drop. He couldn’t tell if things were going poorly or not. “So, Tamaki-kun, you dance on YouTube sometimes, right? You’re really good!”

“Yeah, they liked that a lot, too.”

There was an awkward silence. Sogo shifted his weight from side to side, trying to think of something else to say, while Tamaki scrolled through what looked like a shiny new phone. Well, that was something they had in common. They both had phones. Phones, phones… what else came from phones?

“Do you have a Twitter? Mine’s ‘to_ri_gaa,’” Sogo said, without even thinking. He’d forgotten it was supposed to be a secret. “Don’t tell anyone, though!”

“Oh. That’s you?” Tamaki asked. “I always thought you were stuck-up.”

Sogo deflated at that. Stuck-up? He seemed stuck-up? Sogo tried his best to give off a kind, polite aura online. It hurt to hear that it wasn’t the case. He’d just have to change Tamaki’s mind, then. Be even kinder and more polite in person so he wouldn’t seem _stuck-up._

“Are you done?” Tamaki asked. “We don’t have to talk more.”

Sogo was trying to figure out how to respond when Tamaki started walking back to his room, and he just managed to shout, “Goodnight!” as the door closed.

Well, if Sogo was going to dwell on it any more, then he was going to do it in the comfort of his own room. He flicked off the lights in the living room and kitchen (did Tamaki really have to turn on _every_ light?) and headed towards his room. If he closed his eyes and thought about it enough, he could still smell Yamato’s cologne.

When he opened his eyes, all traces of home were gone. It was just him now. It was just him and his purple bedsheet and the boxes stacked everywhere and the clothes freshly hung in his closet.

Sogo took a little bit of time unpacking everything, getting at least some of it sorted out. His room held a bed, a desk, a lamp, and a dresser. It was less than Sogo was used to, but it was an awfully generous amount for YaoPro to just give him. Well, he supposed they weren’t _just_ giving it to him. He had to work for it, of course.

When he was too tired to continue, an array of photographs lined the dresser and there was the beginnings of a merchandise shrine under his desk. Under the desk probably wasn’t the best place to have a shrine, but it would do until Sogo figured out a better place. It’d likely be better for him to fold up some of his clothes and shove them in the dresser, then fill the newly emptied space with his shrine. Actually, that was definitely the way to go, but Sogo was… way, way too tired to do anything else.

He decided to snap a picture of what he had so far and send it to Riku. 

 

> **SOGO:** [ATTCHMNT: PHOTO_5007]
> 
> **RIKU:** Wow!!!!! Super cool!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> **SOGO:** It feels a little weird to have it out in the open like that, but there it is.
> 
> **RIKU:** I bet it feels so free!!!
> 
> **RIKU:** Are you liking it so far??? Whos in your group??? Do you know????
> 
> **SOGO:** It’s great! I like the sounds of the city.
> 
> **SOGO:** The other person my group is that one dance cover guy I told you was at the audition.
> 
> **SOGO:** He said I seemed stuck-up :(
> 
> **RIKU:** What?? You just met!
> 
> **SOGO:** Yeah… I accidentally slipped my Twitter username skdjldkjf
> 
> **SOGO:** I’m so stupid… I don’t think he’ll tell on me, but he said I seemed stuck-up from my profile.
> 
> **RIKU:** Nah dont listen to him! Youre fine :DD
> 
> **SOGO:** Hopefully.
> 
> **SOGO:** He’s still in school, I think. It’s a school night, but I still hear him up lol
> 
> **SOGO:** I wonder if I should tell him to go to bed.
> 
> **RIKU:** Hmmm maybe hes got the day off tmrw
> 
> **RIKU:** Id hold off
> 
> **SOGO:** Ok
> 
> **SOGO:** I’m really tired, so I’m gonna go to bed. It’s been a long day, but I’ll update you whenever I can!!!
> 
> **SOGO:** Thanks for all your positivity!!!
> 
> **RIKU:** Ok goodnight ily!!!!
> 
> **SOGO:** Goodnight! ily2

 

The silence was piercing on the elevator down to the lobby.

Sogo stared at the reflection in the mirror. Tamaki stood practically on the complete opposite side, hands shoved in his pockets and staring at the ground angrily. He himself was almost completely pressed to the wall, looking a little bit like cornered prey. It’d been a few days since they began living together, and it had been going quite well until an hour earlier. He rolled his shoulders and tried to relax.

The morning had been rocky. Sogo had woken up way too early and ended up having nothing to do for a while, which, of course, made him antsy. He tried to wake up Tamaki a little earlier, but it hadn’t worked out, so he tried making breakfast instead. When that was done, it was nearly time to go, so he tried to wake Tamaki again (a little less nice, with the help of a frying pan and a metal spoon), and it had quickly turn into a screaming match.

And now the two of them were dead silent, walking to YaoPro close together enough to walk as a pair, but far enough that they didn’t seem like friends. Sogo couldn’t think of what to say. “Sorry” was his first instinct, but he… really wasn’t. He wasn’t the one who woke up late, after all. But he couldn’t just say something else like the whole thing had never happened.

They ended up flashing their IDs at the same time when they finally reached the building. Tamaki let out a small laugh at that.

“We’re in sync, Sou-chan,” he said, and it felt like that morning’s fight was just a bad dream.

“Yeah.” Sogo tried his best not to sound cold.

Tamaki huffed, so Sogo could only assume it didn’t work out too well.

They stepped into the elevator. “Floor fourteen…” When Tamaki didn’t protest, Sogo took it as a sign that he recalled the e-mail’s information correctly. He pressed the button.

The doors opened to a blonde woman and a young man standing there expectantly. Sogo didn’t recognize the woman, but he could just vaguely recall the young man’s name from the audition. Izumi? Something close to that…

“Welcome, Sogo, Tamaki!” The blonde smiled, bowing shortly. “My name is Tsumugi Takanashi. I’ll be your manager from here on out!”

The boy followed Tsumugi’s example. “Welcome. My name is Iori Izumi. There’s two Izumis around here, so feel free to just call me Iori.”

“I know you,” Tamaki said. “You’re Iorin from school.”

“Yes,” Iori said stiffly. “Anyway… I will be shadowing Tsumugi for a period of time. Consider me a manager as well.”

“It’s nice to meet you both!” Sogo bowed, and when Tamaki didn’t follow, he elbowed Tamaki swiftly.

Tsumugi motioned for them to follow her down the hallway. It quickly gave way to a more open area. It looked a lot like some sort of lounge. There were a few sleek couches clustered around class coffee tables, and some televisions hung on the walls. There were variety shows playing on mute. Along one of the long walls were a few counters.

“Food stands?” Tamaki asked quietly.

“Yes! This is an office floor. We’re lucky enough to have a few food options on it,” Tsumugi explained. “Iori’s brother works at the pink one! It’s actually his family’s, you know?”

“When you say it like that, it makes it sound like I’m here through them.” Iori sniffed. “I worked hard to enter this junior manager program. The fact that my family works here already isn’t important.”

“Of course,” Tsumugi said, but it seemed a little surface-level. She led them forward down another, smaller hallway until they reached the very last door. “My office is right here! It’s the last one, so you don’t have to worry about forgetting it.”

Sogo tried to let those words soothe him, but he was honestly so anxious he’d hardly been able to talk.

Tsumugi’s office was nice, even if it was a bit small. Her desk had a lot of cute little trinkets on it. Iori stood and motioned for Sogo and Tamaki to sit, and Sogo was going to decline when he realized that he was _supposed_ to be the important one there. That was a weird thought.

“So!” Tsumugi opened a few windows on her computer. “First of all, welcome to the company, again. We’re glad to have you! This is my first time managing, so it’ll be a learning experience for all of us.”

“Do you like mascots?” Tamaki asked, poking at one of the trinkets on the desk.

“I think they’re cute! I didn’t get most of these, though.” She looked away from the screen for a second, glancing at Iori.

“What about King Pudding?” The way Tamaki phrased his question made it seem like he was asking the entire room. “That’s my favorite.”

Iori wrote something down, making a small _hmph_ in response. Tsumugi just nodded as she typed away.

“I’m not one for sweets,” Sogo said, and Iori wrote something else down. Was he taking notes on them? “I like spicy things more.”

Tamaki looked Sogo up and down. “You don’t look like it.”

“Okay! Now that that’s settled.” Tsumugi turned her chair to face the pair a little more. “I’ll be going over your overall concept and your schedule for the next week or so. I’ll also be giving you each folders with copies of the schedule amongst other things like diet, workout routines, and so on. Are you ready?”

Sogo felt dizzy in the best way possible thinking about those folders. Finally! Finally, something to work towards. Something solid he’d be doing for the rest of his time as an idol—which was hopefully a very long time. At least long enough to prove his worth.

He listened carefully as Tsumugi spoke. Their unit’s name was MEZZO”, and they would focus on songs full of emotion. Their appearances would be light and refreshing. She played them a sample of the song they’d debut with. It was slow, but it was nice. Sogo was excited to sing it.

They’d be debuting in about a month. They had a month to learn both the song and the dance, and they’d perform it on a talk show. Sogo wasn’t sure if he’d be good on a talk show. He didn’t know if he had the the social skills to keep a smooth conversation going with tons of people watching. He certainly didn’t have good enough looks to get by. He’d have to rewatch some of the ones he’d downloaded. He _always_ downloaded the talk shows Trigger appeared on.

Soon enough, they were sent on their way, folders in hand. The tension from that morning seemed to have dissolved a little more. Sogo wasn’t going to dwell on whether or not some kid was going to apologize to him; they both had something more important to work towards anyway. He just had to hope they didn’t get into any more fights.

Sogo walked into the elevator without thinking. And that turned out to be a very big mistake, as his nose was flooded with a scent he’d become _very_ familiar with.

Ryuunosuke Tsunashi stood in the very same elevator. And his mouth was moving. He was saying something! Sogo could hardly hear it. Sogo could hardly hear _anything_ besides his own heartbeat.

“The lobby,” were the first words Sogo could hear. “Sou-chan, you shouldn’t space out.”

Sogo felt his face flush. He bowed once, and then again, and then he couldn’t really stop. “I’m so sorry! Please excuse me. It’s been a long day, and I’m new, so I was caught off guard.”

“Caught off guard? By me?” Tsunashi-san laughed. Sogo memorized it immediately. “Hey, don’t worry. You don’t have to be super formal.”

Sogo straightened up, slowly, and the elevator began moving. “I… I’m sorry. It’s what I’m used to.”

Tsunashi-san—no, no. Sogo could think _Ryuunosuke_ to himself, if Tsuna—

If Ryuunosuke didn’t want him to be so formal, then Sogo could allow himself to even _think_ the man’s first name to himself.

Ryuu nodded. “That’s understandable,” he said. “Ah, I’m sorry, but I can’t recall your name?”

“Sogo Osaka,” Sogo blurted, and it sounded like all one word. “Sorry! I’m so sorry. My name is Sogo Osaka.”

“Okay, Sogo-kun. Got it!” Ryuu smiled at him, and Sogo felt even warmer than before. “I’ll remember next time for sure! I’ll see you around.”

Sogo hadn’t even realized the elevator had stopped. Ryuu stepped out and walked around the corner, and the doors closed.

Tamaki burst into laughter as soon as he was able to. “Sou-chan! That was really lame.”

“I know.” Sogo buried his face in his shaking hands. “That was awful!”

“You were like a middle schooler!”

Sogo followed Tamaki out, shoulders slumped. On one hand, he was overjoyed that _Ryuunosuke Tsunashi_ promised to remember his name. Not only that, but called him by his first name, too! That was definitely something he’d have to tell Riku about. And Yamato. Even Yamato would understand how cool that was.

But on the other hand, he totally blew it. Ryuu was bound to think of Sogo as weird for the rest of his life. For the rest of eternity! Even if Ryuu forgot, Sogo would _never_ forget. At least that wasn’t Ryuu’s very first impression of him. It was just his first impression of Sogo as someone who worked in the same building as him. Sogo would just have to work hard to have a do-over. If he could nail Ryuu’s first impression of him as an equal… that’d be stunning.

But that was silly of him to think. It’d be years, probably, until Sogo could even come close to thinking of himself as Ryuu’s _equal._

“Let’s have dinner,” Sogo said, rushing to get his mind off of it.

Tamaki looked at him, a little distrustful.

“I’ll pay,” Sogo offered. He was going to anyway. It’d just feel weird for him to take a high schooler somewhere and make him pay for himself. What if Tamaki didn’t have any money? He didn’t want the boy to feel weird. After all, Sogo didn’t remember carrying around a wallet all the time at that age. Then again, he always had someone to carry his things for him…

“Okay, but let’s go somewhere with dessert.” Tamaki spoke very seriously, almost like it was a business contract.

“Deal,” Sogo said, with the very same seriousness.

And so they ended up at a small restaurant near their apartment. It wasn’t like anywhere Sogo had been before, but Tamaki claimed it to be some of the best food he’d ever had. It had a nice atmosphere. Relaxed and friendly. Sogo felt like he didn’t have to be so rigid sitting there.

“So why’d you wanna do this whole thing?” Tamaki asked between mouthfuls. “‘Cause of Trigger?”

Sogo startled. He didn’t expect that question, but he supposed he should have. “Sort of. I’ve admired Trigger for a while now, so I guess they were part of the reason I wanted to.”

He felt bad keeping it so vague, but Tamaki seemed to accept it as an answer.

“Why did you?” Sogo asked.

“I wanna be on TV,” Tamaki said simply. “Sorry I yelled at you.”

Sogo shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

A response like that was Sogo’s typical response to apologies, no matter if he was still angry or not. But somehow, with Tamaki, it felt like he meant it. He just seemed so innocent that Sogo couldn’t help but be a little lenient with him.

He seemed so innocent, especially digging into the sugary pudding he had in front of him, and yet Sogo still felt like he was hiding something. He hadn’t looked at Sogo directly when he talked about wanting to be on TV. It was a little suspicious.

Sogo didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to feel like Tamaki was against him when they’d just met.

They were back in the apartment before it was dark. Sogo didn’t even realize how long their meeting had taken. It felt like the day had just flown by! Sogo excused himself, slipping into his room. He instantly felt relaxed when he closed the door.

There’d been so much going on that he hadn’t checked Twitter since the day previous. He should probably update his followers so they wouldn’t think he died.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/159726054@N08/43973133582/in/dateposted-public/)

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Sogo scrolled through his feed some more. It was filled with Trigger pictures, as usual. It felt so surreal, seeing Ryuu’s picture and knowing he had just talked to him earlier that day. And it felt even weirder knowing that Ryuu planned on talking to him again. He mentioned a next time! That was… That was incredible!

His heart was pounding again, thinking of running into Ryuu another time. He wondered how many times he’d be able to hear _Sogo-kun_ in his voice again. Well, he could probably hear it forever since he memorized it well enough, but… it was different to hear it in real life. It felt _amazing_ hearing it in person. Sogo thought he was going to die then, but he really would die if he heard it again. Tamaki would have to roll his dead body out of the elevator and get some help.

Or maybe Ryuu would do it—would carry his limp, lifeless corpse somewhere safe. And Sogo would hope to _God_ that his soul would hang on long enough to feel himself wrapped up in those strong arms…

Sogo fell asleep halfway through typing out a tweet of his fantasy. He slept peacefully for once, dreamt of a reality where Ryuu held him every single day.

He wanted it. _God,_ he wanted it. He’d thought he wanted it before, but now he was in a world where it was the slightest bit possible. It was a whole different ballgame, but Sogo was willing to play.

Right. Sogo wasn’t going to stop until they were equals. Until his dreams _were_ reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's my [twitter](https://twitter.com/mezzosaka)
> 
> i love sogo so much, i believe in him so much
> 
> all i've been thinking about lately is sogo saying wig. sogo's wig was truly snatched here. truly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone!!!!! sorry it's been so long since i last updated ;____; i went right into my first semester of college, then a busy holiday season, then my second semester... it left me hardly any time to work on projects that weren't time-sensitive.
> 
> but i'm back with this chapter! i've been on and off writing it since posting the last chapter, but hopefully updates will be a little more frequent! thank you for being patient with me!!

Sogo really did understand, now, why social media updates were sometimes few and far in between.

He really was doing everything all the time. Tamaki had the luxury of having to go to school. While Tamaki sat in school, Sogo was working hard to compensate for the areas he himself lacked in. Iori had called him an ‘all-rounder.’ Sogo assumed it was just to be nice. Sogo was equally average in everything. Nothing was spectacular, and every time he practiced their debut song, Sogo wondered more and more why YaoPro had even decided to go with him.

He was trying his best, though. Even on days with plenty of scheduled rest time, he was working. Tamaki was an exceptional dancer with a powerful voice. Sogo was a good dancer, but he lacked the same energy Tamaki had. He didn’t quite have the same level of breath support yet, either. So he’d just have to practice twice as hard by himself. And Tsumugi and Iori were worried about their blend! How could they be worried about something like blend when Sogo wasn’t even half the idol Tamaki already was?

Their blend was  _ great,  _ anyway. Sogo learned quickly that often, he just had to sing louder to blend well with Tamaki. But sometimes, Tamaki would sing more quietly. But that was the thing—they didn’t need to be told when to sing louder or quieter. Both of them seemed pretty in sync with what the other was thinking. That was definitely their strong point. They may have tons of disagreements, but they knew how to sing together.

Sogo felt like he was about to give out now, though. It was Sunday, and Sogo stopped keeping track of ‘practice days in a row’ once they hit the double digits. Sogo himself had been working late into Saturday night, and this Sunday practice started early. It was barely noon, but Sogo’s limbs weren’t moving when he wanted them to, and his voice was probably three notes from never working again, and he didn’t remember the last time he ate.

“Let’s take a break,” Tsumugi said, stopping the music. She’d been willing to watch them practice while she worked, in order to give an outside opinion on their dance. Usually, it was Iori who did that, but Tsumugi had sent him off on some task almost as soon as they had started.

Sogo nearly collapsed when she said that. He sat on the floor and fanned himself. He never remembered being so  _ tired  _ from a dance practice before, but there was a first time for everything. It was only slightly irritating that Tamaki looked completely fine, but Sogo still wished he’d been dealt a better hand.

“I think you’re too slow on some parts,” Tamaki said, noticing Sogo looking at him. “I dunno where.”

“It’s not helpful if you don’t know where I’m getting slow.” Sogo tried his best not to roll his eyes. He thought he’d had that urge suppressed for good back when he was at home—

A life that seemed so much farther away than it had ever been before. Not like it was his  _ home _ anymore. But was it ever his home? Why didn’t the apartment with Tamaki feel like home? Home was a difficult concept. Something that shouldn’t be tackled in the middle of practice.

—but he was  _ really  _ feeling like rolling his eyes at Tamaki.

“We’ll just run it again and see then,” Tsumugi interjected quickly. She was surprisingly good at diffusing fights before they even started. “Both of you are doing very well! My father thinks you’ll be able to debut soon.”

Oh, Tsumugi’s father—Otoharu, if Sogo recalled correctly. He was a really nice man. Sogo had only met him once, but it was so memorable that he felt like he knew him personally. Tsumugi had told him the story before. Her father owned a small idol company a few years earlier, but it hadn’t really taken off. They were open for a… rather impressive few years before they were bought out by YaoPro. Most of the staff was cleared out, save for Tsumugi (for some odd reason, in her words) and a man named Banri that Sogo had only ever heard of.

So really, Otoharu had no clue about whether or not they’d really be debuting, but the sentiment was enough. Sogo figured maybe, from being in the business for so long, Otoharu had a sixth sense for predicting debuts.

“So we’ll be on TV?” Tamaki asked, sitting up a lot straighter than he had been before.

Tsumugi nodded. “Likely!”

Right. YaoPro had good relations with tons of television programs. They’d be stuck on any one of them to debut. It seemed their debut would be right on track with Tsumugi’s prediction from the first meeting: a month, give or take.

Just as they were getting ready to run through the choreography one more time, Iori poked his head in the door.

“Manager, your… um… idea is ready,” he said, looking a little confused himself. Sogo had never seen that look on him before; Iori typically looked more in control of things than Tsumugi did.

“Wonderful!” she smiled before turning to Sogo and Tamaki again. “I’m sorry your practice is so early this morning, but it’s because I called in a favor! I figured maybe it’d be a little more fun if you get some help from a real actual idol! Give me one second, please.”

With that, she stepped past Iori and into the hallway. Iori moved inside the practice room, quietly sitting on the chair near the door with his clipboard in his lap.

“Whatcha even got on that thing?” Tamaki asked. “You’re always writing stuff down.”

“It’s nothing!” Iori said, hugging the clipboard to his chest for good measure. “A-As a manager-in-training, it’s vital to ensure you take thorough notes! Imagine having a manager that simply forgot about an important date. That’d be—”

“Do you doodle?” Tamaki deflected Iori’s rushed reasoning expertly. “Can I see?”

Iori’s face flushed, but he was saved by the door opening up again.

Sogo’s heart nearly gave out entirely when Gaku Yaotome stepped into the room. He was a man with such a presence that Sogo had a hard time focusing on anything else—not the sound of his heartbeat or how he wasn’t good enough for anything or even the words he was saying oh God he was saying something and Sogo needed to answer—

“Thank you so much for taking the time out of your busy schedule to work with us!” Tsumugi said, saving Sogo. He’d have to make sure to thank her later.

“It’s not a problem,” Gaku said, much warmer than Sogo had  _ ever  _ heard him speak before. In fact, Gaku was a whole lot friendlier than Sogo had ever seen. And that was saying something, because Sogo had seen  _ everything.  _ Gaku didn’t even come off as an unfriendly person; he was just so cool and intimidating that Sogo almost expected him to be a little standoffish, once the cameras weren’t rolling and he had no one to please.

Sogo glanced over at Tsumugi, who was watching them once more.

Gaku was surprisingly thorough in coaching them. He seemed rather nonchalant about it, but he gave good advice, even if it was a bit nitpicky. The feeling of being closely observed, of being under a spotlight, disappeared quickly the more Sogo got used to working with Gaku. That was a weird feeling; Sogo felt like he was still in Yamato’s living room, singing his heart out for his audition!  
That all seemed so far away now. It’d hardly been any time at all, and Yamato was just a train ride away, but it seemed like Sogo would have to cross oceans to get back to how he was. It wasn’t a bad thing! It just felt odd that about a month ago, Sogo was trying to figure out how to cope with the rest of his life, but now it all felt like a bad dream.

He hoped he’d never have nightmares again.

 

(The good parts never last for long.

Sogo should have known that, should have  _ felt  _ that. He should have known he’d fall back asleep, fall back into an endless, cycling nightmare of feeling horrible about himself, of feeling like he’d never be worth anything. He didn’t improve much even with Gaku’s help. Even Tamaki had noticed that, calling him out for trying so hard only because Gaku was around.

Was that his goal? Was that all he was working towards? Did he just want to get noticed by Trigger? He shouldn’t have taken the audition, shouldn’t have gone backstage, should have given this spot to someone who was actually talented and actually deserved a role in the idol industry. He didn’t deserve something so good if all he wanted was a chance to shake Gaku’s hand, to breathe Tenn’s air, to smell Ryuunosuke’s cologne. That must have been it—he was doing poorly because his motives were corrupt.

He couldn’t say anything about it. Couldn’t text Riku, couldn’t text Yamato, couldn’t talk to Tamaki. He didn’t want to worry any of them. Riku would think it was  _ his  _ fault for giving him the opportunity of a lifetime, and Yamato was busy with all of his  _ normal  _ things, and Tamaki was  _ Tamaki.  _

Life was supposed to be perfect. He was supposed to be shining more than he had in school, he was supposed to be smiling and laughing and dancing and singing all flawlessly, always flawlessly, and he wasn’t supposed to be standing in a stupid elevator on the way to a stupid sad bedroom and staring at his stupid reflection in the stupid elevator mirror and wondering when he had started looking so stupidly tired when he didn’t have any right to be, never had any right to be because he wasn’t working hard enough and he never was, he never had been and he just wanted to go to sleep.)

 

_ The best part about being an idol is how you get paid to act like you weren’t crying the entire night previous. _

It was the only thing Sogo could think about throughout the next day’s practice. It didn’t matter if he cried so hard his eyes fell out; as long as he could set them right the next morning, he was doing his job. If anything, he learned he just needed to keep himself so busy he didn’t have  _ time  _ to worry about his insecurities.

The song they were working on ended, and Sogo hardly had a chance to catch his breath before Tamaki was saying something.

“Sou-chan! You’re too slow again!” he huffed, looking Sogo directly in the eye. “Why don’t you know how to do it right?”

“Maybe if I knew where I was going wrong, I’d know where I was messing up,” Sogo said. He’d practiced the dance even after they were finished the day before. He had been positive he had been on time. “You’re just going too fast.”

“I’m a great dancer! I’m not too fast!” Tamaki crossed his arms. “You’re. Too. Slow.”

“If we try again, then we’ll be able to see who’s right,” Iori decided, stepping in between the two of them. “I’m sure there’s a camera around here somewhere. It’ll be easy to—Oh! Osaka-san, you look tired.”

Sogo stepped back; Iori was  _ way  _ too close to his face. If he was on stage, no one would notice how tired he looked. Really, someone had to be standing as close as Iori had been to notice. Did he know anything about personal space  _ or  _ respecting his elders? It was too much, way too much, Sogo didn’t know what to say—

“Really?” Sogo asked, tacking a laugh onto the end. “I went to sleep a little late last night, so that must be it.”

Iori scrutinized Sogo’s face for a moment longer before relenting. He looked like he was about to get one last word in, but he turned to Tsumugi instead. “Manager, may I go look for a camera to settle this?”

“Go ahead!” Tsumugi said. Her voice was cheerful, but she was looking at Sogo with the most concerned face. “While he’s doing that, how about we take a short break? Sogo, you’re doing well! You should take a break. Have you refilled your water bottle recently?”

Sogo thought for a second. They’d been working since morning, and it was mid-afternoon now. He couldn’t  _ remember  _ refilling his water bottle any time between the start of the day and now. He also didn’t really remember drinking from it, either.

“You should go do that, then!” Tsumugi said, and Sogo was amazed at how she could shoo him away so sweetly.

As he left, he could just barely hear Tamaki asking her if he’d been doing well, too. Sogo was sure he had been. He grew more and more certain with each passing second that he himself really was the one messing up—someone as talented as Tamaki was sure to be much better than him.

He was so engrossed in his own self-loathing that he didn’t even realize he was about to bump into someone at the water fountain.

No, not just someone—

“Ah, don’t tell me! I’ve got it this time.” Ryuu had a hand on his chin as he searched for the right name. Honestly, Ryuu could call Sogo anything, and he’d be okay with it. “Sogo-kun, right?”

Sogo nodded. “Yes! Th-That’s my name!”

Oh, that was the stupidest thing he could have ever said.

Ryuu laughed, though, for  _ some  _ reason. He looked really nice… He was a little sweaty, and the sleeves of his t-shirt were rolled up, and it was like a paparazzi photo but  _ better  _ because he was  _ real. _ Sogo would have never thought he’d ever be able to see such a raw, authentic Ryuu, but here he was. And he was more beautiful than Sogo could have imagined.

“You’ve got practice today, too?” he asked, stepping aside to let Sogo use the water fountain. “Gaku was telling me about how your practice with him the other day went! He thinks you two have a lot of potential.”

Somehow, that word felt like an insult.  _ Potential.  _ Ryuu probably didn’t mean any negativity whatsoever, but it only reminded Sogo of comments on assignments he’d completed. He always did everything perfectly, but it never had any heart in it. His teachers and professors always told him that he had a lot of potential—and his father always told him that he had a lot of  _ wasted  _ potential.

Sogo shook his head to try and clear the thought from his mind as he unscrewed the cap from his water bottle. It was tougher than he remembered it being. “That’s truly an honor, coming from him. Even though our time together was so brief, I really felt like I learned a lot from him.”

“That’s great! Sometimes it’s better to learn from someone you look up to.” Ryuu smiled, warm like a summer breeze. “You were our fan before, right? I’m sure you’ve picked up a lot from us without even realizing it.”

Sogo nearly dropped the cap. Right.  _ Right,  _ Ryuu knew about that. It felt more embarrassing than it actually was. What if Ryuu knew how many times Sogo’s stared at his pictures? How many times Sogo’s spliced together compilations of his bodyrolls to post online for other fans to enjoy? How many times Sogo’s watched each interview to glean as much information about Trigger as he could from them?

Even doing all that… Sogo felt like he hardly knew them. They were close friends and distant stars at the same time, and Sogo felt it just standing in front of Ryuu. He wondered if Ryuu knew the feeling.

“Sogo-kun,” Ryuu said, “your water bottle is overflowing.”

Sogo let out a yelp as he stopped the water. There was water all over his hand now… How long had he been standing there, letting the water pour out like an idiot? It wasn’t even that empty to begin with…

But Ryuu was laughing again, so maybe it was okay.

“Make sure to keep working hard, alright?” Ryuu gave a short wave as he headed back to his own practice. “I’m gonna cheer you on!”

It was Ryuu saying  _ that  _ sort of thing that made Sogo feel lightheaded. The thought of Ryuu watching him just like how he watched Ryuu was dizzying… He almost couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea of Ryuu looking at his phone, reading a MEZZO” interview transcript in between jobs. What if Ryuu ended up liking Tamaki better? What if he skimmed through all of Sogo’s parts?

Or what if Sogo  _ did  _ end up being the one Ryuu liked better? What if Ryuu absorbed every word Sogo said like a sponge to use for later? What if Sogo was asked about his favorite flower, and Ryuu showed up later that day with a bouquet of them—

Maybe the lightheadedness was from sleep deprivation, actually. Sogo could feel his eyes wanting to drift shut, and he was still standing in front of the water fountain. He really needed to get back to practice.

If Ryuu was going to be watching him, then Sogo needed to do his absolute best. Even if he was tired, even if he was hungry, even if he was on the brink of death, Sogo needed to figure out how to shine until the very end.

(When Tamaki went to sleep, Sogo practiced for a long while that night. If he was going to be worthy enough to stand on the same stage as Tamaki, let alone  _ Trigger,  _ then he’d have to practice as much as he could.

_ Whatever it takes. Whatever it takes. Whatever it takes.) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [sips that ryuunosuke loving juice but also that 'sogo is becoming really self-destructive and i know i'm making him do this but i'm still crying' juice]

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/mezzosaka)


End file.
